


A night with Madeleine

by Darkhorse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Caring, M/M, Madeleine Era, Modern Era, Not sure if this should be M or E, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhorse/pseuds/Darkhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a fill on the kink meme, wher Javert, as a prostitute is taken up by Madeleine, all the man wants is to see him cared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A night with Madeleine

Javert never tried to remember how he'd ended up in this position. He remembered the dismissal, brought about for accusing, quite rightly, a senior official of corruption, having caught him taking bribes from criminals. It had taken hours of midnight oil to compile a case, but it had all boiled down to fieve minutes, five when it turned out the bated stilll had enough clout to have him removed from post, not only demoted but completely out on his heels, never to hold a position again. He supposed it was the shock that blanked his memory out, blurred it to protect him. But the fact still stood, that he who was once the upholder of the law, was now in the underbelly of it. Not quite criminal, but the dark edges. He, the once First Class inspector, had become a prostitute.  
The one small mercy was that it was a legal one, not that it would have mattered really, how much lower could he sink, with Montparnasse as his boss, he refused to use the trade word.

And that was why he found himself in this parody of a police line up one Monday afternoon. He'd tucked himself on the end, furthest from the door, hoping it wouldn't be one of the officers who would walk through the door, and if it was, that they'd have made a choice before they reached him. The door opened and there was a tensing of all the others in the line. He looked along them. All bar two others were girls, and he was easily the oldest of the group by ten years, though only one, Eponine, was close to being a child. It was a tragedy, but he had no room in his heart to care, survival, to please if he had to, to avoid being hurt and erase his memories of the night before in the morning. That was all he had to live for, he had no future. Perhaps, perhaps it would have been easier to jump in the Seine that evening so long ago. Oh how wonderful hindsight was.  
“Him.”  
Javert jumped, finding himself under the scrutiny of kind grey eyes and harsh flinty ones. He drew himself up to his full height as Montparnesse glanced at him for a moment longer.  
“Are you sure Monseuir, we have better?”  
The man, who Javert realised, was ten years older than him, stared Montparnasse down “I've chosen, I'll have him until tomorrow mid-morning.”  
Montparnasse still looked doubtful, until the man drew out his wallet “Payment in advance, and if you onsider him damaged, we will deal with that tomorrow.”  
Feeling slightly sick, Javert saw Montparnasse's eyes glitter, all reluctance gone, and he led the gentleman to the cubbyhole, called his office, with a solicitous air. Before the door slammed though, the pimp waived a hand to the other prostitutes, signalling them to leave. Javert remained, alone.

The gentleman exited the office and beckoned. Obediently Javert followed, out the side door of the brothel and onto the streets. Javert found himself taking deep breaths of the cold spring air, feeling it fill his lungs, his veins, with ambrosia. It had been a long time since he'd been out doors for any length of time, if he was a take away he was bundled into a car by Montparnasse and riven to the house, then driven back again, or picked up by the client in the same fashion. This client however, didn't seem in the least bit hurried to go anywhere, walking along the street, apparently aimlessly, a small smile on his face. Javert turns his gaze to him studying his cleint as he rarely got a chance to do. He'd been right on the age, then years, maybe a few more above him, shorter than him, the high five-foots. He looked older than he should, yet there was still a dance of youth there too.  
“Do I pass the examination?”  
He looked away, shocked at his own boldness “That is not for me to do.”  
A low sigh, resignation, but the man kept talking just the same “What's your name?”  
He stayed silent, people still knew of inspector Javert, and he would not admit his shame.  
“Do you wish to know mine?”  
He jerked his head negatively, unlike some he had no wish to blackmail, and had made it a priority that he would never know a client’s real name, as much to save himself rom the shame of knowning that the man he bedded was another officer, even if he recognised their face. He would not break it for this man.

They carried on in silence, Javert gradually turning his attention from the man beside him to the world. They were clear of the red light district now, into slightly better areas, poor, but not debauched. To think, at one time he would have considered this area the pits of hell, yet now he was pleased to see it. It was even quite pretty, in it's grubby way, some of the inhabitants clearly had some pride for their homes, the flower-boxes on flats told him that, though they were few and far between. His mother had grown flowers, sweet peas he remembered, in their box, alongside the vegetables, and he'd picked up some of it. If he'd had a chance he might have grown something back there, if only for the distraction. But nothing decent could live in that place, even if it tried. 

“Where would you like to go?”  
He looked sideways, having half forgotten his companion on the walk “I am not the one making decisions... sir.” He could have said more, wanted to remind the man that he was effectively bought for the day, but not in the public place, he'd be arrested for solicting, knowing his luck.  
“Madeleine.”  
“Sir...?”  
“It's Madeleine, not Sir... Javert.” The man sounded faintly exasperated, but Javert felt his throat tighten. So he was a Cat, one of those who liked to tease and play with his chosen's mind before he took him, the early question had been only a game, he'd already known the name of his purchase. He hated cats, he much preferred those who just got to the point, pinned him down and took him with barely a word, it was easier to forget he existed that way.  
“And on that front, I give you command.” Yet in dichotomy to the words the man stopped sharply jut then, fishing car keys out of his pocket. A smart Renaultwas parked next to them, and as Javert watched he unlocked it and opened the door, the drivers door “Hop in.”  
Javer put his hands firmly in his pocket and the gentleman dropped his eyes suddenly, seeming apologetic, your pardon”Had everything been in those damn papers then, including the fact they'd managed to get him stripped of his driver's licence? How they'd done it he wasn't quite sure, though it was probably to prevent him taking matters into his own hands. Had he kept it, he would have taken his car and driven until the tank was dry, away, away from paris and stupid superiors. He slipped into the passenger seat, hand automatically following his mind and reaching for the atlas he spotted in the doot pocket, pulling it out and opening it, before he really realised what he was doing. He felt his face flush, hastily shoving it back where it came from, feeling the gentleman's eyes resting on him the entire time.  
“As much as I would like to take you to the other side of the world if I could Javert, that would not fit with my word, which I gave to Montparnasse, however, pick anywhere in France and we will go there.”  
He felt almost drunk for a moment, stabbed randomly at the map, and read off the nearest town “Montreuil-sur-mer.”  
A chuckle from Madeleine “How appropriate.” Javert heard the car engine come to life, letting his head settle on the rest and stretching his legs out into the foot well. It was hard to stay on his guard suddenly, and if he'd had something to drink he would have assumed he'd been spiked. Perhaps it was simply the release from fear, fear he barely remembered he was living in. He kept his eyes open as they drove through Paris, drinking in the sights like a tourist. But once they hit the outskirts, he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, the night before telling on him like a millstone around his neck. He would just have to trust, even though something in Madeline's tone when he's responded to the choice made him even more certain he had a cat on his hands, and the knowledge that sleeping in car with a stranger who had just bought him would almost certainly lead to trouble, he needed to sleep.

Someone was shaking him and he automatically threw out an arm to deter them, though he hit nothing. When his eyes peeled themselves open it took a moment to remember where he was, before it hit, hard in the gut. He looked over, wondering if the other man had pulled over hours ago and watched him sleep, but there was no guilt of that in Madeleine's eyes, only a gratefulness that he had actually come awake   
“Feeling better?”  
He nodded, though his neck was cricked. That was minor. Then he became aware, of course, that the car was parked, parked on a drive, not just on the street. Survival instincts went into overdrive, his fingers finding the seatbelt lip at the same moment the other hand found the door release. He was out in seconds, on the balls of his feet, ready to run. Madeleine moved more slowly, careful to keep eye contact but also making no threatening moves. By degrees, Javert became aware that he was over reacting, that the man meant him no harm, by violence anyway. He felt shame again, a feeling all to common now. But Madeleine didn't seem bothered  
“You're probably right, it would be good to walk through town and wake our legs up again.”   
Javert didn't remember speaking, but he assumed he must have, and fell into step with the other man.   
He felt like skipping as they wandered through the town. It was clear that Madeleine was known here, many people nodded to him, smiling, while children waved excitedly. But it didn't feel threatening, not like the other place had become.   
They halted in the centre of town, and Javert found himself looking about slightly uncertainly, this was strange ground for him, he had know idea where he should go next. To his relief he found Madeleine taking the lead, guiding him through the streets to a restaurant, a very full, very upmarket restaurant. He stopped at the door, certain they were going to move on, perhaps go back to the house, but he found the other man holding the door open for him. As if he were a guest, and not what he was. It was only polite to enter, though, and as Madeleine was, despite what he had said in Paris, still in control. What he said, Javert knew he would have to do. He had sworn himself, albeit reluctantly to this life, and he would not break his bond.

Despite the apparent fullness of the restaurant, it took only moments for them to be seated at a secluded table, and offered menus. Javert, sniffing the food aromas from the kitchen, became aware that he hadn't actually eaten a proper meal since yesterday breakfast. No-wonder he'd been exhausted. His fingers itched to open the menu, and he glanced at Madeleine,   
“Pick whatever you like.”  
His mouth watered at the thought, even as his mind struggled,unable to believe he might be being given free rein on this.   
His stomach won out over caution, even as his mind recategorised his patron, to another slightly sleazy box.

Comfortably full with good food for the first time in months, Javert found himself yawning on the trek back home, either that or he wasn't as fit as he had been, which was also probable. He kept going, but became aware that even his slight wine consumption was going to his head, and accepted Madeleine's offered arm with a nod. Still he wondered, what was it this man wanted from him, he was still possibly a Cat, but that had become more and more unlikely every moment. 

When they made it to the front door, his head was starting to clear, but he was aware of shivers, probably part tiredness, creeping up on him. It was just his bad luck that the second they broke out was the second Madeline turned towards him having opened the door to reveal a wood-floored hall. Concern immediately filled the older man's eyes  
“Ah Javert, I'm sorry, I'd forgotten you had no coat.”  
Javert found himself hustled politely into the hall, which only triggered another round of warming up shivers. Then Madeleine was guiding him up the stairs, onto the landing and pushing him in the direction of what looked like the master bedroom.  
“There's a lock on the door, please sleep for as long as you need to.”  
His policeman’s mind, trained to obey orders, made his feet walk, opened the door and guided him into the room. Half undressed, using his day shirt for pyjamas, he fell into the soft bed, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
The sun woke him come morning, and he lay there, eyes shut, feeling the warmth on his skin and luxuriating in the bed beneath. A soft mattress, so soft he practically sank into it, great thick downy pillows, and blanket covers, wide and heavy. This was heaven.

He lay there for a long while, unwilling to move, basking in the feeling of comfort. It should be a dream, but even when he stirred enough to pinch the bed didn't vanish from beneath him, didn't turn into the rough slatted tri-bunk he normally called a billet. Bliss. Eventually he rolled out of bed and found his way into an ensuite, all gleaming pearly white wall tiles with a rough carpet. Now that was interesting, most had cold tiled floors. The water from the shower was a wonderful warmth, he found it soaking out all the stiffness that had accumulated, easing all the bruises and sores he'd picked up in his life.  
The towels, on a heated rail, were fluffy and soft and snug. He could get used to this life, Javert realised, if he was given the millionth of a chance to do so, and something new to occupy his daytime.

Madeleine met him as he came down the stairs, and compared to the man's neatness Javert was awkwardly aware of his twice worn clothes, of his damp hair tied back into a ponytail, rather than the double bob of yesterday. He was scruffy, a cur off the street.  
Madeline didn't seem to make such comparisons, glancing at the grandfather clock Javert hadn't noticed the night before  
“There's a good bakery on the outskirts, we'll get breakfast on our way back.”  
Back? Did he have to leave already? Javert felt his heart sink, as he realised the hour hand was brushing eight, it would take two hours to get to paris, and Montparnasse had only sold him until ten am. His time in paradise was up then. He forced his shoulders not to droop at the thought, and walked the final steps down to the hall, taking in every bit of the wood-panelling, the few pictures on the wall, the chime of the clock as it struck the hour. He had a good memory, he would store this place, keep it back for the dark quiet nights, when even he had to admit he needed comfort. Yet he knew it wouldn't be enough. He sighed and started to walk towards the front door. Then something tickled his mind. He turned back.  
Madeleine was watching him, eyes unreadable, unless they were sad.  
Javert steeled himself, and got the sentence out “You bought a prostitute... so complete the act.”  
He cursed silently, his voice had let him down just when he needed it to stay steady”  
Madeleine's eyes glittered, but not with lust “You truly want that?”  
“It is not what I want that matters, Sir” The words were sour in his mouth as he spoke “You bought me.”  
The older man nodded “Then come here.”

He found his back pressed to the wall, neat hands unbuckling his belt, easing his trousers down. He tensed, only to see Madeleine kneeling infornt of him. What the...  
His body took over the reactions then, a gasp slipping from his lips. This could not be happening. The warmth made every nerve quiver even after only mere moments. This was pure pleasure, pleasure he had never experienced before. Madeleine's tongue danced and teased, tracing patterns that might have been drawn with fire, for the effect they had on him. He let his head roll back, mindless and heedless when it rested with a thump on the wood panalled wall, his body reacting and responding without his mind's input.  
Finally his body jerked, hips twisting, and he felt himself go boneless, instinct and ability the only things keeping him upright. Those and the wall.  
He blinked sluggishly, aware that Madeline was standing again, easing his trousers back to their proper position and re doing the belt  
“Why...”  
“Never let it be said I do not keep my end of the agreement, Javert, what ought to be done has been done”  
He barely took in what came next “Would you object to this arrangement becoming a regular fix in your schedule?”  
Even excluding what had just happened, he realised he wouldn't mind in the least.


End file.
